Break Your Little Heart
by SuPa4Natural
Summary: AU/ USUK: "I ain't a photographer but I can totally picture you and me together." Arthur Kirkland is getting hit on by a young lad he meets at the bar—with the cheesiest pick-up line he has ever heard of! However, he doesn't realize that after this short meeting, he's going to end up in a path he swore he'd never tread on.
1. Chapter 1

**BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART**

**I**

**Pairings: **USUK/ Alfred F. Jones with Arthur Kirkland

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own Hetalia.

**No need of warning since it's in the M section and you all know why you're here. **

**Scratch that... **

**WARNING: **USUK go for hot actions eventually, Alfred tops, alcohol intake, mentions of drugs/cheesiest pickup lines of the century.

* * *

><p>Arthur Kirkland had been kicked out of the apartment by his half-brother who wanted some time alone with his sex partner or maybe partners, he didn't know and probably didn't care. The point was—he was kicked out of <em>his own <em>apartment for the umpteenth because of his brother's whims on a cold night.

His half-brother, a Scott by blood and a devil by heart, Alistair Kirkland declared his rule over their shared apartment on a night when London was apparently extra chilly. And for a best seller novelist like himself, Arthur had to work on his new manuscripts in hopes he would not miss the deadline—not that he did before.

"Bloody weather," he growled as he felt the knife like wind probing his skin when he opened the main door, "Bloody brother." Arthur loved how they rhymed. With quick steps he came across the bookstore few blocks down his apartment. The store had his latest _Jones Grey _series' fourth instalment racked up in the 'best seller' labelled shelf—seen right through the glass window. In the bizarre cold night, he found his pride giving him quick warmth however the heat died as soon as he recalled that he may be a best seller novelist, the readers will never know 'The Gentleman' was Arthur Kirkland's pen name. Shaking off the regrets and other identical feelings, he shuffled towards his destination.

The novelist preferred to stay indoors when circumstances like he was in occurred. He scrunched up his gloved fists into his coat's pockets and walked fiercely in order to warm up his body quicker. Few block later, he shuffled inside his usual pub located right before an Italian diner. _'German Cross'—_it was called and owned by a German imbecile who claimed to be of Prussian lineage—who never failed to spread his egoism that was bigger than the world's population. The bloody twat was Gilbert Beilschmidt, the world's biggest jerk.

He sat the bar counter and waited for the bartender to get his order. His shoulders dropped instantly as he watched the albino pub owner stand behind the bar counter and smirk at him. Arthur practically saw a 'I-AM-EGOISTICAL-DOUCHEBAG' tag on that smirk of his.

"Rather early today, eyebrows…" The albino showed off his canine.

The Brit scoffed at the offense and chose to ignore it. "Johnny Walker Black Label single."

"Someone's extra happy…" Gilbert mused, "Didn't get kicked out by your bruder today, hm?"

"Not quite," Arthur sipped his drink, "Seeing it is superfluously cold this day I wanted something that would warm me up for it."

Beilschmidt chuckled in amusement as he served drinks to other customers. "Why not ju'z get freaking woman to warm your bed?"

"Unlike you, prostitutes are not to my liking. In fact turning to prostitutes damages my reputation as a gentleman. I treat women as they should be not a bed warmer like you do, wanker. Talk about decency…" Arthur took a swig of the black label.

"I never said anything about prostitutes! And oh please—a'z if you had any manly courage to ever get a real woman in your bed. I bet even gays don't want grumpy pants like you… You can just spend the re'z of your life kissing _Will I am Shake his spare_'s ass."

"Shut it, you dunce! Its William Shakespeare!"

The novelist was busy puncturing the German's ego when he didn't notice someone sitting right next to him. Gilbert gave up trying to defend his ego and moved onto another customer with a defeated sigh. It was only then when Kirkland felt being watched and turned his head that he saw a young blond seemingly in his teens but overgrown to six feet had taken a seat beside him. However the man was looking at him funny from above his worn spectacles. The emerald eyed man had his eyes narrowed at the sight of the stranger next to him smiling like a dope and wiggling his eyebrows at the novelist.

Arthur felt a strange whirlpool churning inside his stomach which was making him incredibly uneasy and anxious. He knew it was because he was being watched by the stranger next to him.

Mustering all the strength he could get, he tried to speak but all that got out was a tiny squeak.

"Sir—I think—" He took a mouthful of his drink.

"You know," the stranger next to him muttered, "I ain't a photographer but I can totally picture you and me together."

The drink inside his mouth retreated back but only this time towards the stranger.

The said man ducked out of the way avoiding the sudden tsunami.

Gilbert who was nearby had dropped a glass of vodka that he was handling.

The people around had stopped their buzz and looked over to them.

There were clatters here and there and finally silence.

Arthur had pretty much gagged the stranger mentally. The man had said what he had heard and so fucking vociferously that the whole pub had their heads turned towards them. Believe it or not, the idiotic buffoon had no care of the people staring at him hence was still grinning like an ignorant fool.

"The hell—who the bloody hell are you, you git?!" The Brit snapped at the blond who just tilted his head to his right and gave an innocent puppy look from his blue eyes. And damn, Arthur had to admit the look was enough to make him stammer. By the time, Gilbert had served another glass of vodka while laughing nervously; avoiding any eye contact with the Brit. The crowd who received a deathly aura from the annoyed blond turned their heads away as well, a drop of sweat trailing down their temples.

"Oh yeah!" The man brightened, "How rude of me!" He extended his hand and let his smile widen ear to ear.

"I'm Jones, Alfred Jones."

Arthur did not return the handshake and just glared at the big thick headed idiot who radiated his stupid-ness. The novelist only accompanied his disdain with his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows mussed up with low growling breaths—the thought of the ignorant brat having identical name to his best selling series' main character—Jones Grey—had just pushed him to scowl in contempt.

"Um… dude…"

Kirkland immediately caught how the man's accent wasn't the same as his. Sighing and shaking his head, he spoke with suppressed anxiety trying hard to sound less offensive, "Well, _Jones_, I-I mean…Alfred Jones…As you may have failed to see, I am not _one of your kind_ and your implications aren't applicable to me." He understood that Jones was hitting on him—not to mention with the cheesiest line of the century. He saw Gilbert snickering in the background from the corners of his eyes.

Alfred looked perplexed. "Uh, dude, what do you mean by _my kind_?"

"I apologize, Jones, I shouldn't have offended you. I just wanted to convey that I am in no way…um-uh… gay," Arthur knew he went too far with comment.

"Dude!" Alfred lifted his both hands in the air. Arthur could only wince in utmost guilt.

"Dude, I ain't gay either, man!"

The pub owner banged the bar counter furiously while using the other hand to clutch his stomach—his grin had transformed into hysterical laughter too.

The Brit ignored the laughing mess and anxiously faced Alfred, "What do you mean you're not gay? You are bloody hitting on me—with the cheesiest pick up lines at that!"

"I don't have to be gay to hit on a guy!"

Arthur couldn't help but think that even Shakespeare would not see the silver lining in the stupid buffoon.

"That is just illogical!" Arthur shot back and in the process he got a glimpse of gold label in Jones's hand, "You are an obnoxious bratty and awfully rich kid trying to show off to your seniors!"

"Pfft—you are one teenage having the nerve to call me a kid and yourself as my senior," Alfred gave a big pout.

"A teenage? I-I-do I look that young?" Arthur murmured in shock but shook his head soon enough, "I mean—you cannot insult your senior, young man! I am your senior! You are…maybe eighteen or something?!"

Alfred laughed as he watched the Brit confused. "Oh come on! Do I look that young?" he asked, taking a huge gulp of his gold label. Arthur followed suit and finished off his black label.

Raising his eyebrow, the novelist thought of clearing the bewilderment, "How old are you then, hm?"

"Twenty three."

"Twenty three? My dear lord! Six years younger than myself!" Arthur cried.

"What?! Dude, you're twenty nine! I thought you're…I dunno…nineteen or something!"

"Will you stop referring me as 'dude'? I have a name. It is Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred gave a mock salute and Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the man's childishness. "What are you doing in London, Alfred? I have already guessed you are not familiar to our environment…" Jones smiled as he sipped his drink, "Oh, yeah right…I came all the way from US of A! I dunno just to check whether London is as awesome as New York…" The novelist shook his head smiling and overlooked the petty slur. "All the way from the States…All by yourself, hm?"

"Um, no… Actually I came up with my buddy," Alfred turned back where as the Brit's eyes followed.

A large man with intimidating built, ash blond hair and violet eyes holding a bottle of premium Vodka, sat beside the American who was apparently—by the seems of it—hitting on the pub owner. Arthur widened his eyes as he watched the albino German flush at the other man's comment and stammer with no way of any egoistical comebacks. The Brit couldn't fathom how the man had punctured the pub owner's ego on such short period of time.

"This is Ivan Braginsky from Russia and…" The American frowned as he found his friend busy flirting with the pub owner, "And is currently busy with some flirting business."

Alfred and Arthur kept staring at the two who were busy flirting—well, Ivan was doing all the flirting and Gilbert ducking his head to hide his embarrassment. The albino was stuttering in pure mortification and a tiny bit of pride of being hit on after god knows how long.

"Who-who the hell are you, you fa-fat yeti?!"

Ivan had a flirty grin on his face, "I'm a thief and I'm here to steal your heart, da."

Gilbert practically had his heart back flipping. "Vh-vhat?!" His German accent caught up his throat.

Red danced over his face as the Russian winked at him and gazed at his scarlet eyes, "Da, the only thing your eyes haven't told me is your name, little кролик…"

"Kr-krolik? Vhat does that mean? Are you insulting the awesome me?!"

"Nyet, I was just calling you a little bunny… Da, you're beautiful silver hair, smooth skin and your eyes….they all make you look like a bunny…"

The two continued their flirty marathon while the Brit and the American turned their heads to resume their own flirt marathon—or just a man to man conversation as Arthur had thought it to be.

"I see that your friend is advanced in pick up lines," Arthur commented in bewilderment, "Like yourself."

"We both are the disciples of the same teacher," the other explained.

Arthur had his eyes still widened in shock but quickly retreated to their normal size. "Well, have you been sightseeing?" Alfred scratched his neck but answered, "Not much but yeah I did see the Big Brain…" The Brit scrunched up his eyebrows, "You mean the Big Ben?" He nodded but stopped as soon as he noticed his new acquaintance was empty handed. "If you may, I'd like to offer you a drink, _Arthur_."

The said man couldn't help the flutters in his heart when he heard the American call out his name. His black coat that was usually baggy was now tighter than ever or maybe it was his chest rising to its fullest. Jones may have been an American idiot but that didn't make the Brit hate the lad. Actually speaking of the lad, Arthur had never found an interesting personality ever before. Comparing the undercover detective Jones Grey, his character and the American idiot Jones—he found the real life one had far more colours and hues in his life than the fictional one.

"Earth to Arthur…."

The man snapped out of one of his writer's instincts of losing himself in imagination and faced the blond. Now he was consumed by another of his writer's instincts—close examination. The American had pretty slick golden hair and untameable cowlick at the parting. The lad had clear, beautiful, beyond description—blue, slightly cerulean and light azure, eyes. The well sculpted nose and the masculine lips just added the glam in the slightly tan face. That cologne—that bloody fucking husky and fresh cologne sent shivers down his nose. His body was indescribable yet Arthur knew behind that bomber jacket and the t-shirt, there was the body of a Greek god.

"Arthur…Arthur…Arthur…"

The intruding pokes on his cheeks suddenly snapped him out of his magical exploration. He wasn't drunk, just…intoxicated by the American. A sudden pang of red splotches hit cheeks and Alfred must've seen them for he bit his lower lip and smiled, "Man, did you just cover your face in honey?"

Arthur blinked, "What? Honey?"

"You look so damn sweet."

The red splotches now spread all throughout his face and then targeted his innocent ears. "You—you git!"

Alfred couldn't help but tease the petit Brit. Just then a glass of Johnny Walker's finest Gold Label was served before Arthur. "_Arthur_, I offer you a glass of limited edition gold label," Alfred watched the man widen his eyes.

"Well make that two, no...three…no four glasses of that limited stuff!" Arthur pouted, "I intend to make you pay for the comment my dear Alfred—and literally by the way!"

"Sure, sure...my pleasure, my dearest Arthur," he turned to the flushed albino, "Three more please!"

First glass, second and then came the third.

"You know…hic—you're just so bloody flirty!" Arthur twirled the empty glass in his hand. "I like you!"

"I know…I know…"

"You know? You don't know!"

"What, hm?" Alfred pushed his spectacled to his face.

"You're the cutest thing I've ever met! I've never questioned my sexuality until…" Arthur stared at the American, "Until I met you."

Alfred's arm was succumbing to the fatigue of holding his phone and recording the Brit's drunken state. After the huge but sweet blow from the Brit, his breath instantly stopped for a moment. "Oh really now?"

"Yep! Hic!" He fumbled over his words, "If-if I asked god to give me the cutest, the most handsome and the sexiest thing on earth, he'll hand you over, Alfred."

"The flirt here is you, Arthur…"

The Brit gave a hysterical laugh and before Alfred could foresee what would happen, Arthur fell off the tall chair and landed on the floor.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Hello dear readers. I have finally found satisfaction in this chapter for I had deleted seven previous drafts due to depressive discontent. However I strive to improve with each chapter. I just hope this one will end in 15-16 chapters because I recently discovered during such long chaptered works, my plot used to go way out of track. So, this time I have a roughly sketched plot in my mind and I look forward of how it will go. This chapter should've been posted yesterday but my internet died.

As mentioned in the summary, this is centred on the USUK pairing with a side pairing of RuPru (my OTP so if you don't like this pairing just give it teenie-weenie chance, eh?) and Yes, Arthur is a novelist! _Jones Grey _was just a random name I thought for an adventure genre book…like Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes and stuff. Alfred is a flirt/American idiot, Gilbert a pub owner and Ivan a huge flirt (who could've guessed he had it in him?)…but there's more to that. Stick around for the next chapter maybe? I have placed the fic in Crime section for a reason. You'll eventually figure it out in the following chapters. It has something to do with Alfred and Ivan (wink wink).

I have tried my best and if there's anything you want to share, criticize my work, take out the Grammar Nazi in you or just give a constructive reply, there's nothing stopping you. If you're possibly super lazy like me, hit fav or follow if you think the eighth draft deserves it. If you want to write flames on RuPru pairing then don't litter the review section but kindly send a PM.

**P.S. I'LL BE UPDATING EVERY THURSDAY SO HOPE YOU LOOK FORWARD TO THE NEXT CHAPTER.** Have a wonderful day ~ SuPa4Natural


	2. Chapter 2

**BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART**

**II**

**Disclaimer: Nope, Hetalia doesn't belong to me. Marlboro and Havana cigars are not mine as well. They're just mentioned.**

_"…__48 hours have passed and yet there is no clue of where the missing diamond is. Investigators are trying their best with a huge financial help from the Royal society in the search of the Royal family's most prized possession. The American Heart, two centuries old red diamond had been ceased by the then British Government right after the American Revolutionary War in 1786. The case report…."_

Arthur groaned and shut his eyes tight as he stirred from his sleep and was hit by harsh head poundings. His fingers massaged his temples as he tried to lift himself up. Scanning his surroundings, he found himself wrapped in a white quilt on a queen sized bed. He found a LCD television currently on and the noise from the bathroom was the running shower. The window near the bed had let the sun rays in the light coloured room. He clearly understood this wasn't his room or a place he knew, the moment he woke up. His paranoid abilities were locked away for the moment due to the severe hangover hence his calmness had taken over his brain.

He was still figuring out what happened when he heard the shower stop. There was soft pitter-patter on the tiles and humanly sighs after that. The bathroom door opened and Arthur couldn't do anything but watch as his previous acquaintance walked out half naked, a white towel wrapped on his waist. The American eyed the Brit and smiled like the morning sun.

"Morning, beauty."

Arthur groaned as he felt pangs on his head again and lowered himself, shifting his weight to his elbows and watched the blond approach him. _Holy lord._ The novelist had continued staring the young man's body despite having head throbs and still foggy in his memory or sight. However, the twenty nine year old watched on, his hazy mind calculating and his eyes licking the scene laid before them. The water droplets trailed down from the man's wet hair to his smooth jaw then down the neck, trickling down the wide but sculpted chest and slowly, very slowly to those goddamned hard abs. His eyes were plastered over the body when he failed to notice the slightly sun kissed man had walked towards him.

The American bent down, his hands settling each beside the man's lithe body caging him. He crept forward, gingerly closing the distance between their foreheads—making sure the other was comfortable. "Hm…you're not having a fever. Just a hangover from last night, Arthur." The butterflies tickled the Brit's heart and made his languid breaths turn into a fast paced ones. Unable to regain his calm state of mind, the man lowered his gaze and tried to stop his mess of breaths—all while having his forehead stuck with Jones's.

The fast paced breath turned into anxious pants as his emerald eyes scanned his own body which in this case was—naked. Alfred had his face so close that Arthur could feel the man's hot breath on his face and the warmth sent chills all over body and amusingly a certain part of his anatomy had started to arouse itself.

Blue gazed over green, "Arthur."

Green gazed right back at the blue, "Alfred."

"Arthur, do you have a map?"

"A map?"

"Yeah…I think I got lost in your eyebrows."

Arthur pushed himself backwards, away from the American's touch. A slight glare adorned his eyes, "One more word of my eyebrows and you will find your heart out of your body."

"Just like the American Heart? The red diamond…?"

The novelist's breath hitched but he pursed his lips. Quickly grabbing a glass of water from the small table beside the bed, Arthur gulped down the liquid. His eyes fell upon the wall right next to him. "Oh, look at the time… I have to get back," Arthur watched the wall clock turn nine, "Um...may I know where are we? How did I get here? Why am I naked?" He blushed at the last part of the question.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold that train, mister…" Alfred got up from the bed and walked over to get the hair dryer, "You remember the four glasses of gold label?" Arthur nodded and got up from the bed with the thin sheets covering body.

"You collapsed after the third drink. I tried asking Gilbert dude where your apartment was but the guy had drowned himself in vodka after a challenge with Ivan. That guy was totally wasted! And there was another blond German…um...Lu-Ludwig! Yeah, Ludwig nearly crushed Ivan's face after seeing the wasted dude…" the blond finished drying his hair and walked over to the couch and handed over the clothes to their rightful owner.

"Anyway, since the hotel I was staying at was way too far and I couldn't drive since I had the drinks as well… I went to the nearest hotel, brought you in and then you barfed for like five minutes and then barfed again all over my clothes and yours. I took off your clothes, got you in bed and got myself a nice time washing both of our clothes… And wallah! Today here we are…"

Arthur listened to his words carefully and moped when he heard he had ruined the young man's clothes and wasted his time and money. The main point to be noted was—the young lad hadn't taken advantage of his drunken state! The man was an idiot yet a hero; his hero. At the moment, he knew Shakespeare would've been laughing at his foolish presumptions but that wasn't going to change his thoughts of the American idiot.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry…I must have been a huge burden—"

"Aw…come on, Arthur. You weren't a burden. You're my first Brit buddy!" he cheered as he slipped the last of his clothes.

Arthur smiled and watched the man slip into his bomber jacket. "But, Alfred, if there's anything I could do for you…" The man walked towards the Brit and smirked with mischief glistening his eyes, "Well, I have a few things in mind." "Pervert!" The Brit laughed as he watched the bespectacled man step back and shield himself in jest.

"You could treat me some nice breakfast though…"

"I can do that," the Brit proudly declared, "Let me get dressed first."

Few minutes later, both the males were fully clothed and ready to take on the day. The duo walked out the fairly large hotel in silence—Alfred skipped as he followed the older man. As the two polar opposites walked together their hands seemed to touch every time they walked at each other's side; the law of attraction may have existed between. Alfred loved how the other would blush furiously whenever their hands got attracted while on the other hand Arthur found it embarrassing as hell.

Alfred took out his premium Marlboro cigarette and his favourite silver lighter with the flag of USA imprinted on both the sides. Blowing thick circular smoke reflecting the cirrus clouds above, he smirked at the smaller man and offered the cigarette, "Want one?"

"I thought you wanted breakfast. Anyway," the Brit dug his pocket and took out his Havana cigar and his silver lighter which was precisely a twin of Alfred's silver one but only differed with the flag of Great Britain on each side, "I have stronger taste than yours, boy."

Alfred made few cheesy comments on how coincidentally their lighter were of the same company and Arthur just smiled at how it just had to the same as the American idiot's.

As they walked on, Arthur's cell vibrated in his pocket. The blond quickly took the device out and answered the caller. "What?!" he exclaimed, "Bloody hell! I'm not coming over! I-I…am busy, you twat!" Alfred watched the man scream at his phone. "I have work! No! Don't you dare you monster! Alright, alright! I'll come! Positive!" With the screaming fit over Arthur placed the cell back in his pocket and stopped in his tracks.

"Alfred, look…I really would have agreed to take you out for breakfast but," Arthur pouted in grimace, "My bloody brother wants me to attend to his so called urgent business…"

"It's cool, Arthur. I was just kidding about the breakfast…I just wanted to spend some more time with 'ya," Alfred followed suit and gave his grimaced pout. The Brit's emerald eyes suddenly lost its clear gratification and were filled with despair. He too wanted to spend some more time with his American idiot.

"Hey, Arthur… I think I'm lost," Alfred grinned, "Can you give me directions to your room?"

The moping Arthur was replaced by the original one who laughed and slightly leaned against the American for support. The man happily caught the other's hand, his warm hand—Arthur noted that was bigger than his and his own hand fit into the other's palm as if his hand was crafted for the very purpose. Smiling to himself at his dwelling thoughts, the older man guided the younger—to his room.

* * *

><p>"I hope that demon doesn't attack you," Arthur spoke under his breath as the duo walked up the stairs leading to the Brit's apartment.<p>

Alfred chuckled. "Demon, huh? Your brother must've bullied you so damn hard…"

"If only it was typical bullying…" Arthur sighed.

They finally reached the third floor and were greeted by two small flags on the main door. One of England and the other of Scotland, Alfred noted. He had somewhat figured the Brit was as devoted to his motherland as he was. But he couldn't understand what the Scottish flag was there for. If he loved the Great Britain then there should have been the flag of Wales as well.

The host opened the door and walked in as the other followed quietly. The apartment as Alfred thought was super vintage fashioned with Victorian furniture, dark colours and ecstatic prints on the walls, a huge portrait of their Queen, a murkily crafted door leading to the kitchen, two similar closed doors, a huge LED placed on the wall right above a fireplace and classic 18th and 19th sensation draped all over the wide space but with modern touch. The couch was unusually faced towards a large window that let the morning sun streaming inside the open living room.

The apartment unexpectedly had no other human being than themselves. _Or that's what they thought._

"Mmm…Alistair, more….Don't stop."

"Ye' delicious being…let meh gnaw ye' down to the bones…"

"ALISTAIR KIRKLAND! GET YOUR DAMNED ASS OFF THE COUCH!"

Arthur snapped at his older brother whose head suddenly appeared from the couch with a cynical smirk spread all over his face. Alfred noticed the man was half naked or maybe fully; he couldn't see for the man was behind the couch. The man had fiery red hair with ginger hues, emerald eyes slightly dustier than Arthur's and eyebrows tad bit smaller than his brother's.

"Ye' back, eh? Go on, prick, and prepare the breakfas' quick!" Alistair said; a demanding pitch in his voice.

Another head popped from behind the couch—spiky blond hair and somewhat less built than Arthur's brother. "Whazzup people?" the man's eyes widened upon seeing the American, "Alfred—the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Mathias Kohler! Danish dude! What the hell, man! I thought you were out with your tiny Norwegian partner!" Alfred shot back with hints of amusement in his voice.

"The freaking guy ditched me and well I came back with Alistair," the Dane replied as he wrapped his arms around the Scott's neck for support.

"Alfred, I'm sorry for interrupting but this certainly _isn't _the time to be discussing those things!" Arthur threw his hands up in the air and walked towards the kitchen. He was followed by Alfred shortly. Arthur left him alone in the kitchen and went on to scold his brother and ramble on of how his decency was always in the gutter and how his couch was now stained and other things Alfred had no idea of—probably because he was already done with the pancake batter until then and heating up the pan to start on the preparation of the meal.

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><p>Half an hour and few brotherly riots later, the four were all seated at the dining room with Alistair and Mathias already dressed and freshened up and Arthur finally giving a time-out on his screams. The table was decorated with traditional American breakfast, keeping in mind who took the trouble to prepare it. Pancakes, syrups, coffee, tea, bacon, eggs and fresh salad were served on the table which was usually filled with burnt scones and bitter cups of tea. The conversation was fairly normal apart from the Scott and the Dane's occasional flirty tit-bits in between (which Arthur noted was the first time happening in his dining and feeling seriously uncomfortable of it given he had another guest whom he had seen half-naked and flirted countless of times).<p>

"So..ye' two dating, huh? Since when?" Alistair sipped his tea.

Alfred chirped, "Since yesterday!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "Uff! We are not dating! The git is lying!"

"Come on, Artie… You're single. I'm single. Coincidence? I think not."

"Don't you dare call me that, idiot! And stop with the nonsense pick up lines already!"

Mathias gulped down the tea before he spoke, "Man, what were you doing? I thought you were one of those egoistical flirts who were 100% straight!"

"Stop talking about yourself, Kohler…" Alfred humoured.

"Mathias jus' a fuck buddy, that's all. Last night's encounter was jus' concurrence," the Scott raised his legs to rest them on the table. The other two weren't quite affected but the Brit certainly was. Arthur glared at the red head but rolled his eyes focusing his mind on the wonderful breakfast.

"Hey, Artie," Alfred turned towards the thick browed man.

"Yes, my love," was his reply dipped in sarcasm.

"Do you have any raisins?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then…how about a date?"

The American and the Dane left right after the breakfast was peacefully over—apart from Arthur murdering his brother a hundred times in his mind for staining his dining table with his damned legs. Alistair had settled down at couch and was gazing hazily at the news while the other getting the dining as it was before.

_"__The American Heart case has no evident fact on the suspects however the investigators are pointing their fingers at the Americans and claim that they had stolen the diamond to get back at what Britain had ceased from America two centuries ago. The Americans, enraged at the accusations have…"_

The younger Kirkland finished clearing up and exited the kitchen quietly but stopped upon seeing his brother focused on the news. Clearly, Arthur wanted the man to say at least something about the blond he had brought along but as they say…expectations lead to disappointments. Alistair didn't mention anything even after the guests had left.

"The publishing house called yesterday," the blond broke the maintained silence, "They said they had the pages printed with ease. They are waiting for the edited portion—"

"He's suspicious'…"

Arthur raised a brow. "Who is suspicious?"

"That guy you brought… Alfred Jones, ain' it?" Alistair lifted his legs and settled them on the couch with his upper body leaning back.

"Sus—what nonsense are you sprouting?"

The older Kirkland sighed as he flicked the channels. "It ain' nonsense, prick. Haven' seen the news? Ya' know who ya' must trust and who ya' musn'… Don' repeat Gilbert's mistake."

"The Hungarian woman was the one at fault. I am quite sure Gilbert hates himself for trusting her that easily. But Alfred…isn't like that. He's just a foreigner visiting London. There's nothing that—"

"Yer fuckin' him—"

"I am not! We are just acquaintances! We aren't even dating!"

"Exactly what 'em sayin'… Ya' jus' met and yer already getting into him."

"I was not even saying anything related to him! You bring him in the topic from nowhere and—"

"Don' give me that shit, Arthur. The momen' that man stepped in this apartment, I knew ye' were literally expectin' me to say that 'the guy was great and I like him' stuff. I fuckin' knew that!"

Arthur was blinded by anger. His brother had no right of telling him whom _he _should trust and he shouldn't. He had no right of accusing an innocent man. Alfred was whom he came to know and he may not know much of him but there was a huge part of him that wanted to spend more time with charming American and get to know him more. The attraction might just be a slight infatuation yet Arthur loved that feeling of being alongside another human being who _actually _acknowledges him—who actually understood him the moment they met.

"One more word about Alfred, I swear I'll—" the novelist didn't finish. He knew any drama writer would have laughed at his foolishness for trusting someone he just met and not his own. But that wasn't of interest to him.

"I'm leaving."

The blond took his coat from the hanger.

"Yeah, jus' leave already! Cool that shitty brain of yer' and come back! Or jus' abandon me… like father did." Alistair sank back into the couch.

Arthur clutched the doorknob with a heavy heart torn between stepping out of the apartment to run away from the confrontation or stay back to defend what he felt he must.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Hello again! Thank you for waiting patiently for a week and as promised, I updated! Thanks for the follows and favourites, guys! I'm also grateful to those who took time to go through this stuff. Thanks to GarGoyl for that wonderful review!

Second chapter was tricky so there might be few mistakes here and there that have missed my notice. _The American Heart _is a RED diamond. I know, even I didn't believe there were red diamonds in the world. Well, that's probably the case now. It's stolen! And who's an American?

Gilbert is like totally wasted and didn't appear in this chapter (thanks to the magical treats from Ivan). And… If you noticed, there was a HUGE hint of ScotDen there. Don't get me wrong. I adore DeNor but ScotDen is just super sexy. But of course, as Alistair mentioned, they are just sex friends. Well, that was that. The slightly angst end wasn't actually planned but I thought it would just fit there. So, you have the second chapter and the third… well I'll try my best for an update on upcoming Thursday.

Reviews are love.

Have a wonderful day~ Namaste, SuPa4Natural.


	3. Chapter 3

**BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART**

**III**

**Previously:**

_"__I'm leaving."_

_The blond took his coat from the hanger. _

_"__Jus' leave already. Cool that shitty brain of yer' and come back! Or jus' abandon me… like father did."_

_Arthur clutched the doorknob with a heavy heart torn between stepping out of the apartment to run away from the confrontation or stay back to defend._

**zZZz**

* * *

><p>The room was filled with the noise from the television that the tiny click of the door was almost inaudible. A certain blond had decided—his trench coat hung where it initially was—a frown adorned his lips. His feet took him to the couch where his brother had cozily rested his body at.<p>

"I would never," thick eyebrows remained calm suppressing the urge to rise, "NEVER abandon you."

Alistair lifted his upper body only to press himself at the end of the couch. "Ya' really mean that?"

Arthur nodded quietly.

"Really?"

A drop of salty fluid ran down the Brit's cheek. "Of course. Why would you ever doubt that?" Alistair quickly grabbed his cell phone and clicked on a small icon of a camera. Turning the device towards his younger brother, he hit a red button and the phone had started recording. The red head then laughed hysterically, hitting the sofa with his fist.

"Hahaha…" He wiped an imaginary tear, "I can't believe ye' just believed me!"

The younger Kirkland widened his eyes, his lips twitched into an ungrateful scowl and his face almost red as the shade of the purest blood as he tried to rub his tears with his hands. "Alistair Kirkland! How dare you!" He watched the said man fall back into the divan, clutching his stomach and laughing his head off.

"April Fool's Day, prick!" the red head roared, "Ye' really think that crazy American guy isn't to my liking?! That'd be insane, bro!"

Shaking his head furiously in fuming rage, the novelist dived at the digital calendar and watched in despair as it read "01/04". A nerve popped on his temple as he watched the culprit behind his grimace falling from the couch and literally rolling on the floor—laughing.

"Sensitive bi'ch!" The older Kirkland got off the floor and jumped around a bit; he was holding the recorded bit in his hand showing it to his little brother who was on the verge of blowing the thermometer of his temper.

"Hey! Delete it this instant!" The younger one protested as he chased the other. "NEVER!" Alistair imitated the Brit's accent and mocked the smaller man. As the tiny riot progressed, a sudden knock at the door made both the brothers freeze at their place. There was one knock followed by a small pause and continuous string of annoying knocks. Alistair quickly dodged his furious brother and reached for the door. A certain spectacled blond who was with him this morning for breakfast had decided to drop by after what it seemed fifteen minutes.

"Hey, dude, where's Arthur?" The American accent rung the Brit's ears. He saw a glimpse of the tall figure in his brown bomber jacket from inside. Before he could even raise his hand and mouth a 'Here!' the red head had placed his phone in Alfred's palm and pressed the play button. Jones went through only one expression throughout the video; his sneaky smirk—which Arthur was definitely familiar with.

Alfred wanted to comment but lean fingers snatched the device from his hand—a scowling face met his gaze. Arthur had his hands placed at his hips and a (HUGE) scowl was apparent on his lips. "What are you here for, Alfred?"

The American almost replied 'Here for you, babe'. _Almost_. And he was absolutely thankful that he did not say that. "Um… Do you have the time?" Arthur sighed and dropped his defenses, "It's fifteen minutes after you left, Alfred." Alistair gave his '_oh hell_' look and shuffled towards his warm couch, settling for the TV again.

"Oh, come on, Artie…I meant the time to write down my number."

Arthur growled lowly and gave a weak punch on the other's arm—colour apparent on his cheeks and ears. Alfred almost squealed at the cuteness Arthur was radiating. "If that is what you are for then…" Blue eyes glimmered at the green ones, "Wait, wait, wait… um… how should I put this?" He played with his thumb, twirling it around the other one. The writer couldn't help but give a shy smile when he found the American stammering over his word rather…_cutely_. Wait. He did not just think that.

"Look, Arthur," the nickname was blown away, "I…I've really found you...uh…kinda amazing. Ya' know…"

Arthur could feel himself explode into a pile of goo as soon as the other blond uttered his full name. The Brit had his lips slightly apart, almost wanting to tell the man to say more of what he wanted to hear in a very long time. No one had actually ever said that to him, from his demon of a brother at the very least. However the point to be noted here was—Arthur had literally been questioning his sexuality as he confessed when he was drunk. Alfred had been that sunshine that reminded him that the world wasn't always dark and there were people like him who did nothing but appreciate him and acknowledging his existence by showering him the attention he thought he least deserved.

Yet he stood there pondering whether he was gay or the world was extremely straight for his taste. During his delinquent, he had girls lining up for him. Then in his golden boy years the number increased drastically. While he went to one of the finest universities, there were women piling up even then. Yet, he remained single—not in a relationship, even once. The thing was, as any dreamy and imaginative writer, he was waiting… for that glorious person to walk into his life. The American before him actually filled the bill.

"Um…Artie, what do you say?"

Arthur shook his head and wiped his mind clean as he tried to focus on his words. "I apologize; I did not get you, Alfred…"

"I asked if you would like to come to Mathias's party tonight. Don't worry! I'll not ditch you like some douche. I'll protect you like a hero!"

The writer laughed and loosened up quickly. "Why are you inviting an old man like me, Alfred? It's April Fool's Day. I know what you are up to."

Alfred's eyebrows twitched a bit as if he was trying to remember something but wasn't quietly getting what he was finding for. "April Fool's is today?! What?! That's like today? Hell no, I am like seriously asking you out!" His brain seemed to be oblivious of the rest of the sentence or how it came out. Arthur coughed unconsciously as he heard the 'seriously asking you out' part. "Come on, Artie. Please…please…" A puppy look was on the young lad's face.

There were a zillion things the Brit could reject in an instant with no guilt or regret and yet there he was thinking why couldn't reject that certain American idiot's puppy face with his eyes glazed with pleads and his tiny hopeful smile that could actually attack his heart.

Few heart racing and seconds later, the Brit sighed. "Fine," Arthur tried to sound as if he was grumbling.

"Thanks, Artie!"

Alfred flashed a bright smile and that was enough make the Brit swoon—but the other pulled him into a hug and that made the thick brow man melt into the firm grasp on his body. He shouldn't have calculated but he realized he was a perfect fit into the American's arms. The warmth was indescribably warm and felt glorious like his young days when he used to run through the golden meadow at sunrise back at his grandma's farm.

His disappointment was seen—he heaved a sigh of discontent as Alfred loosened his grip on the older male who had returned his hug as soon as he had offered it. The blond understood the Brit had welcomed his embrace even though he seemed to be an uptight personality who made little children because of his cold outer appearance.

Blush crept on both their face as they parted.

"So, um… I'll get going. I'll pick you up at..uh…seven," Alfred scratched his neck as he mumbled incoherently.

"Seven…seven is good…"

"I'll just give you my number. Call me maybe," Alfred grinned as he took the phone in Arthur's hand and typed down his digits. Satisfied, he saved it with his name followed by a tiny smiley. "I'll get going now… Dress casual nothing fancy, 'kay? Bye! Call the hero anytime!"

Arthur nodded nervously as he took back the phone. Alistair, tired of the cheesiness covering his apartment, raised the volume of TV that reverberated the song 'Sorry For Party Rocking' throughout the apartment. Arthur slammed the door as soon as Alfred was out of sight and rolled his eyes at the red head.

"ALISTAIR KIRKLAND!"

**zZZz**

* * *

><p>"Do you think this too formal?"<p>

Arthur stood before the large mirror in his room as he fixed his bow tie. His brother had just entered to check whether the younger Kirkland had finished moping around and wore anything that was actually wearable. Keeping in mind that his brother wore gran'pa style sweater vests and un-cool baggy pants all the time, the older Kirkland had offered help willingly just so he wouldn't embarrass himself.

"Wha' the fuck is wrong with ya'?" Alistair surveyed his brother, "Fuckin' tuxedo? The hell man! It's a party not a fuckin' movie premier, retard!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and threw himself on his king sized bed. There was only fifteen minutes before Alfred would come to pick him up and there he was walking around, wearing a tuxedo for a casual party. He sighed loudly as his brother rummaged through his closet impatiently. Few seconds later, a pair of black slack, a faded gray button up and a dark green boat neck baggy sweater was thrown at his face.

"Get ye' head in the game, bro," the red head finally took his head out of the closet, "Ye' not gonna get laid if ye do the grandpa style."

The Brit immediately shot up, "I'm not going to have sex with Alfred, you moron! I'm just accompanying him to a small casual party!"

"Yeah, yeah…" Alistair left the room to left the man change into his new outfits. In no time, the Brit had his cloths on—his appearance drastically younger from his own view. His hair was slightly messier than usual just to go with the casual flow and the Scot's black boots topping off the man's attire. Arthur had to admit, after his pursuit in the writing area, his fashion had significantly altered from the punk spunk to simple and humble. It wasn't exactly going back into what he was but discovering that he had sustained his figure even when he wasn't in his comfort cloths was just amusing.

The bell had rung, disrupting some narcissistic thoughts running through his mind. Going through his pockets, he placed his cell, a lip guard and a condom (purposely left by the Scott for a purposely proposed proposal). Taking a deep breath in and blowing it out with the same force, he opened his room door and walked out to be greeted with twinkling blue eyes.

"H-he…hello."

Arthur had his tongue overlapping inside his mouth. Alfred flashed his million dollar smile and quickly paced towards the Brit to catch him by the hand—pulling him out of the apartment. Alistair gave a thumbs up to his brother, "Jus' make sure he no longer has his virginity!"

"Yessir!" Alfred gave a mock salute while Arthur buried his face in his palm in pure embarrassment.

Alfred had dressed up pretty much more significantly than before—white tee with Superman's logo, dark grey jacket and blue jeans—Arthur had remembered about his words of 'saving him and being a hero' and all that quite made him feel giddy inside. The twenty nine year old was dragged all the way towards the American's quite fancy and perhaps a little dandy silver hybrid which was waiting for them.

"So you have a hybrid as your possession?" Arthur inquired as he was guided inside the vehicle and the other ran at the opposite side. The man was finally strapped to his seat, "Actually, no. Kinda rented from the firm…Seems they have branch here too."

"A firm?" Arthur was surprised, "What do you actually do, Alfred?"

The man stayed quiet for a moment but replied, "I work at the _firm_."

The writer waited for further briefing however the other blond didn't acknowledge his patience. "A _firm_? What firm?" Alfred looked over to the writer before increasing his speed. "Just a firm, ya' know…" he licked his lip and gulped, "Enough about me, what do _you _do, Arthur?"

Arthur furrowed his brows at the sudden change in the topic but didn't want to oppress the topic further. "I'm a writer.I write."

"That's cool, dude! What do you write? Any published work…?" Arthur could feel pride swelling in his chest, "Actually four have already been published. The fifth installment…I'm working on that for the moment."

"EXCUSE ME, but I dropped something!" Alfred roared.

"What?"

"My JAW!"

The writer burst into a tiny fit of laughter. "Freaking four books? What are you, man? J.K. Rowling in disguise? What do you write about anyway?" The writer rubbed the back of his neck nervously, trying to contain his excitement about his character Jones Grey, "Just adventure themed books for teens…nothing much."

"Nothing much?" Alfred shook his head, "Gosh, stop intimidating yourself!"

The talk was held for quite a long and then began turning away from its course and ended up landing on favourite food, sports, past time, hobby, music—their age gap or their polar opposite personalities didn't bring in the communication barrier they were expecting.

The car stopped before a huge building. Alfred went round a corner and parked at a corner space. It was almost seven forty five when the two marched up to the apartment door at the fourth floor. A light hum of music was buzzing through the wall as soon as they arrived at the floor. They rang the bell and few seconds later, a familiar Russian opened the door.

"Da, glad you could make it, asshole!"

Arthur inwardly puked at the vodka reeking man. Suddenly a recognizable albino pounced upon the Russian male from behind, "Eyyy, come on, my boo bear! We have _stuff _to do!" Ivan leaned back at the engulfing hug, "Alright, my little bunny. I'll be there in a moment."

Gilbert lookd up and creased his forehead as he smirked, "Oh, hey, are those caterpillars on eyebrow's face?"

Arthur immediately fumed at the mention of his eyebrows, "I do not wish to snap your neck, Beilshcmidt. Especially when you are dead drunk and do not know what you are talking of."

Ivan slightly glared daggers to the Brit at the mention of killing his poor little bunny but didn't comment. The albino decided to laugh and burp at the same time.

"Arthur, chill, babe," Alfred wrapped an arm around the smaller man' shoulder, "Let's just ignore their world and get into ours." The duo brushed past the other two entering the apartment filled with thick haze of smoke reflecting the cirrus clouds in a clear sky. The room was poorly lit, only red hues of the light and darkness present. The music was low but audible while other guests indulged in at least a smoke, drink or even in making out. The party organizer was nowhere to be seen and Arthur was extremely uncomfortable by the smell of the room that just slapped a tag of 'sex' on his sense of smell. Alfred on the other hand didn't seem to be caring enough hence wasn't completely hot and bothered at all unlike the blond writer. The self proclaimed hero brought a drink for the Brit but got only regular soda for he had to drive them back.

He knew no one and the Danish host wasn't even there to greet them. That was probably the worst evening he had ever spent. Arthur made his mind scratch that. There was a man with whom he was infatuated with, holding his hand and sipping the drink from his cup, his eyes glistening with tease. If that wasn't adorable, Arthur wasn't sure what was.

Few minutes passed away and the strong drink had already started transporting dizziness into the writer's brain. The strong drink which was premium vodka instead of his usual Scotch and whiskeys had started kicking in quite quicker than expected. His vision was almost blurry—he could only see an albino figure and a tall man making out at the couch in the corner, bodies dancing and swaying at a slow motion and the spectacled blond next to him. The make out scene had affected him greatly and his lower region—drastically. With a handsome American beside him, whom he was already smittened by—wasn't quite helping or entirely good at the moment. But with a room full of warm bodies, out of which none paid attention to them, he could just give into an intoxicated temptation...

"A-alfie…" he called out as he gripped the man's arm, "Alfie…" Alfred let out a gasp of surprise as the tiny frame dragged him in a corner.

"Alfie, I wanna give you a…mmm…" The Brit was swaying slightly, his mind foggy but his other senses like touch and smell still intact and heightened. The smaller man pushed the other on the couch at another corner and positioned his knee right between the other's parted legs as he cupped the American's cheeks—staring at the blue—no room for stopping in his system.

"Alfred Fucking Jones, just sit back and enjoy the show of your life."

Arthur gingerly slipped out of his green sweater.

**zZZz**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Hello lovelies! Thank you for the favs, follows and reviews! Sincerely appreciated!

Alistair: Oh dear, Arthur...he be like oppa gran'pa style! xD

Arthur in sweater is like super cute/sexy. Alfred and Superman t-shirts never go wrong man, never.

So yeah, it quite isn't April fool's Day and that probably was the worst trick I could ever think of. Come on, Alistair is always like that...you know with 'worst joke ever' stuff! (I guess). Just a small hanger at the end. Hold your trains people, I know what you're thinking. *YAOI* Ain't that right, eh?

Where the hell is Mathias by the way? Gilly is super sappy, okay? (Thanks to Ivan's magical treats once again). I wonder how I should throw in Gilbird there…. And of course, there is the rest of BTT left to show up. When there's BTT, you know who comes next...

P.S. I just uploaded this chapter again after few edits here and there. If there's still any mistake, feel free to mention them.

Hope you guys have a wonderful day~ See you next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART**

**IV**

_"__Alfie, sit back and enjoy the show of your life."_

Alfred was a man. A man had his needs. Alfred had his needs.

If it wasn't for his Norwegian colleague suddenly bursting into the party and sincerely kicking the hell out of Mathias, he would have probably taken advantage of the drunken mess before him. The thing is, he has never been seduced this way—let alone the fact that Arthur was a man as well.

The party had turned into a barbaric turn of events as the Dane was impressively beaten into a pulp—a certain recognizable Scott entering the scene dramatically and trying to stop the tiny blond from further blowing punches at the Dane—Alistair, however, was also greeted with fists and feet he barely managed to dodge.

"Fucker! Rot in hell you cheater!" The Norwegian glared at the two, his eyes red with disgust and regret.

Mathias quickly got up despite sharp pain on his torso and grabbed the tiny man's hand, "Wait—Lukas! You don't understand!"

"Ey, 'twas just a simple fuck. Besides, he moaned my name instead of yours so… 'twas pretty good, I'd say," the Scott blew a thick smoke from his cigar. Lukas practically had his cool mind blowing off like an atom bomb. Mathias seemed to cringe at the sight of furious glares thrown at him.

The spectators seemed to be so conscious of the fight between the two that few of the guests had started recording the scene. Alistair looked carefree, his hazy green eyes oblivious to the misunderstanding he had caused. There were fits of screams and few broken plates and bottles but thankfully there were no casualties. Finally, what it seemed to be a huge turn off for Alfred, he decided to call it a night and take back the Brit along with his brother.

"Oi…. Where are you going, eh?" Arthur grinned as he wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck to lift himself as the other did.

"I'm escorting you back to your apartment," he picked up the Brit bridal style and slightly touched the other's forehead with his own, "Let's continue there, 'kay?"

The twenty nine year old simply smiled like a dope and nodded like a good child. Along the way to Alfred's hybrid, Ivan with a sleepy Gilbert on his back followed them—since the albino's apartment was just above his own bar, the Russian thought it was wise to take a lift from his colleague.

The redhead Scott followed the two pairs as they were headed for the exit. The Norwegian, after series of phases of his anger had finally calmed down and forgave the Dane. It was Alistair's fault, not his—was what Lukas agreed on. He had managed to get a good grip on the Scott's neck but much to his disdain, he was pulled back before he actually became a murderer. The elder Kirkland still seemed oblivious of the situation. Tired of the drama, he lied about the Dane being drunk and him taking advantage of the drunken state—which he had not and would never do.

That earned him few more scratches but he thought he deserved it—after all, banging someone else's man wasn't good moral.

"Shit… I can't drive," Alfred turned over to Ivan, "I had three drinks."

"Way to go, lose screws," Gilbert murmured in his sleep but Ivan replied, "I had at least two bottles of vodka."

"Let meh drive, wuss!" Alistair came up behind them, grabbing the keys from Alfred's hands and quickly seating himself in the driver seat. The other two followed, Arthur, comfortably in the American's chest at the front seat and Ivan cuddling the sleeping albino at the back. The hybrid drove off soon after.

"When did you arrive at the party, huh?" the blond American turned towards the Scott.

The redhead stared at the road as he spoke, "I dunno…six? Seven? There were no clocks in t'e bathroom…"

"The bathroom, da?" Ivan posed his surprise.

"Jus' for a quick fuck. That's when t'at tiny man showed up," he laughed as the other two looked nervous, "That tiny lad… quite small for his huge rage…"

No one spoke of anything for at least ten minutes when Alistair turned over to Ivan at the back, "Yer' Russian, eh?'

The Russian nodded. "And you don't seem like British…"

"Em not. Meh mom's from Scotland and meh dad from here. Stayed back with mom in Scotland most of my years… The Scottish accent 'ad to catch up…"

"But Arthur's pure British?" Alfred raised his brow.

"Different moms. Actually, all of us have different moms. I have two step mothers after meh own."

"Wait, all of us?"

"Four of us. Meh, the Irish twins and then Artie. All different mothers. Same dad," Alistair spoke with slightly small tone.

Alfred and Ivan had their mouths still agape by the time they reached the writer's apartment building. The Russian with the asleep German on his back went to the albino's apartment two building away while the rest three entered the building.

"Jus' take him to his room," he lit up his cigar as he winked, "Change his clothes if ye' want."

The American gulped at the thought of that but of course, he had his morals to stand by and taking advantage of drunken beauties was not one of them. He carried the limp male towards his room, taking a note to change him into his night clothes before putting him into bed.

He opened the Victorian style door and found a perfectly neat room with creamy white walls, thick dark green curtains draping the window next to the king sized bed. Finely crafted cupboard, a work table and a huge chair also adorned the room with fluffy cream coloured carpet across the floor. The attached bathroom was to the left with a flat-screen facing towards the bed.

He first took the man to the bathroom to let him freshen up a bit. The cold tiles came in contact with their slippers acting as shields. The American slipped his arm around the other's lean waist and pulled him closer to help him balance himself. The two giggled as their small contacts tickled them with glee and the giggles settled as simple smiles as the Brit tried to stand.

The first three minutes was quite fun for the blue eyed American. However, the events took a huge turn when Arthur suddenly vomited—all over the floor, on himself and ultimately, the person beside him. Alfred remained calm and let the older man take it all out. His grip never ceased and never loosed but instead got tighter as tried to lift the man on his feet.

"I-I-I….sorry," Arthur sobbed quietly as he watched the other take off his stained clothes, leaving him bare. Alfred put a finger on the other's puffy lips and silently took off his own clothes as well. Both the males were stripped only to their boxers—it was too late for Arthur to react on it. The American filled the tub with warm water and gently lifted the other to place him inside the tub. After he was seated, he himself followed suit and placed Arthur on his lap as they sat in the tub together.

Arthur had burst into various shades of red—Alfred had particularly bound him to his chest with his arms around his waist. The American did not really want the other to talk about how sorry he was or how guilty he felt but he wanted the man to smile and giggle like they did as if they were seven year olds flying kites together in a summer field. He took off his spectacles and placed them at the side before placing his chin on the writer's shoulder and humming a soothing tone as Arthur gently as possible placed his hands over the other's arm around his waist and closed his eyes to relax.

Relaxed—he was. Comfortable—he was. Nervous—he was.

These three mixtures of heavy emotions had brought over tsunami of thoughts into his mind. But it was seemed to vanish as Alfred started drawing soothing circles on his aching back muscles. "Al-Alfred?"

"Hm?"

"Th-that…there..fe-eels good."

"Where here?" Alfred repeated the motion.

The writer couldn't help but squirm in pure bliss. "Hey, Artie?"

"Mm, Alfred?"

"Is your body from McDonald's? Cause I'm loving' it!"

Arthur giggled at the embarrassing comment and sunk his face into his hands. Alfred caught the smaller man's hand and tangled their fingers like perfect laces, blowing a small sigh on the writer's neck's and shoulder junction.

The sensation against his shoulder made him shudder a little but the massage offered by the American was not refutable. The big hands wandered around his back, skilfully moulding shoulders then gliding from his neck to his chest and then gently massaging the torso. Arthur felt he had no professional massage doing these magical tricks to him. He couldn't comprehend whether the massage had made him feel relaxed or the fact that it was Alfred doing…

Moments later, Arthur woke up on his bed—with another body lying beside him. If it was for any other, even if it was his own brother, he would've murdered the person for laying a toe on his bed. But since it was Alfred, he had to be biased. The gorgeous face of the American had made his heart bounce and swell as the defined features made him swallow hard on holding back. Their bodies weren't at any distance. Alfred's warm arms were wrapped around the smaller man's lean frame and the smaller arms were clasping the American close to his body which was thankfully clothed. He felt he would have fainted with all that heat raging inside if he was actually lying naked with another naked _man _in _his_ bed, snuggling and smiling together even in their sleep.

The tiniest part of Arthur's heart squealed at how passionate and cute that would look.

* * *

><p><strong>zZZz<strong>

**Author's Note: **I'm literally on the verge of a breakdown. I've a caught a cold and damn, it makes my head spin. I accidentally deleted 75% of the first version (common occurrence these days in writers like myself), whined for about it and got back to work after all that. My eyes are teary, my nose is runny, my throat's dry…ugh… it's practically hell right now. Not asking any mercy reviews, though…

So chapter 4 is up and it was the shortest of all because you know what happened in the first paragraph… Another of the cheesy pick up lines is established and hope you'll stay for rest of the chapters. For all those who have read Shakespeare's drama Macbeth, you'll be surprised to see that there was Norway and Scotland actually fighting in the first scene. Woohoo~ for the reference!

I'm sneezing and coughing right now. You'll need virtual masks, readers. I have a virtually transmittable cold. See? The cold's messing up my head.

Constructive reviews are love. Thanks to all those who reviewed, faved or followed the story as well. Thanks for the views too! Hope you guys have a wonderful day. See you next Thursday! Goodnight!


	5. Chapter 5

**BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART**

**V**

**Happy New Year! ;)**

zZZz

* * *

><p>The writer slowly grew conscious of his surroundings. The sun rays hit his face without mercy as his ears caught the sound of something sizzling next door and sweet aroma wafting inside his nose. His brows crinkled as he rubbed his eyes and stirred from his slumber. Pushing himself up, he found the warmth of a body next to him gone which made him groan unconsciously. His eyes travelled to the wall clock that showed it was nine in the morning.<p>

His lithe body reluctantly left the bed's warmth and headed for the attached bathroom to freshen up. The man emerged after few minutes looking fresh, dressed in his unattractive pyjamas and curious about the unusual event of someone else—than him—preparing breakfast.

There were whistles and hums from his kitchen and that somehow led him to think either Alistair had cracked his head or he himself was hallucinating. Both his assumption were thrown aside when he found a certain blond humming the State's national anthem and flipping fluffy pancakes at the same time.

Arthur faced a slightly muscular but toned and gently tanned back of the younger male. The lower half of the man was covered with the man's jeans much to Arthur's _secret_ disappointment. The American looked over his shoulder to find the other walking towards and smiled to greet, "Morning, sunshine!"

The writer felt his calculating mind grasping every single detail of the younger male's body. His emerald eyes were glued to Alfred's naked upper body that showed off muscles flexing with each movement. The man was neither bulky nor overly covered in muscles but with perfect physique fit for a high profile supermodel photo shoot. Arthur may or may not have licked his lips unconsciously. Alfred however failed to notice the intense stare and started plating up the food he prepared.

"Take a seat, princess! I'm gonna serve you the awesomest breakfast you've ever had!"

The older man chuckled at the man's enthusiasm as he sat at the table, "I highly doubt that."

"Why's that, huh?" The spectacled blond raised a brow while placing the meal on the table.

Arthur fixed empty plates for them as he replied, "No breakfast is 'awesome' without tea…"

"Gah—Brits and their overly bitter tongues!"

"Americans and their humongous appetite!"

"Meany jerk!"

"Fat jackass!"

Alfred scoffed, "Rude."

The other shook his head and headed over the stove to brew some tea for him while the American placed the meal on their plate as he sat down. Few minutes later, Arthur joined him, a tea pot and a cup with him. He spoke as he poured the tea, "Why the sudden interest for nude modelling, Jones?"

"Woah, dude! I should totally try modelling sometime! Thanks for the reminder, Artie!"

"There is no stopping you with then nickname is there?"

All he got as a reply was muffled words barely audible due to the idiot's constant munching. Their talks however took off, never settling on a single one somewhat because one of theirs bipolar attitude. Cats, flags, electric guitars, key rings, toilet papers, calendars and what not. Their talks intrigued both especially the writer since he had never met an adult in his life who still treasured his imagination and dreams of his young days.

"…and so I and commie bastard formed the 'bro pact'!"

Arthur swallowed a delicious piece of the pancake, "In conclusion, you both turned out to be wankers…"

"Pretty much yeah…" Alfred gulped down the glass of juice, "At least we don't bang the same chick twice now. That was just seriously sick…"

"Women ought to be respected, Jones!" Arthur had a scorn on his face.

"Aw…little princess offended, huh? Period giving you cramps and emotional stress?"

"Shut up, Jones!"

"You don't need'ta hide it, babe, I know already! I'll rub off the extra lines on your eyebrows!"

Arthur sprang upon the American to gag the fellow only to land on the younger lad's lap, their faces apart by few inches. Alfred took the chance to slip his hands around Arthur's waist and pull him closer, earning a wide stare from the older man in the process. Their breaths were practically mingling and somehow Arthur's hand had closed around the other's neck, bracing so as not to fall.

"Hey, Artie…"

"What?"

"Are you a banana?"

"_What?_"

"I just find you a-peeling, babe!"

Arthur laughed. With all the laugh power he had. Until his stomach started aching with that entire laugh. Slowly, his body curved on its own, leaning forward into Alfred's warm body. His forehead came in contact with the lad's shoulder and his laughter died as he realized in what position he currently was in. He was in his dining, on a certain man's lap to be exact and leaning on him as if it was perfectly natural. _Awkward….._

"Alfred…?" The man slowly rose to come in contact with spectacled clear blue eyes.

"Yeah…"

"Do you have any idea what we are actually doing?" his smile slowly disappeared, "I don't get it. I've never behaved like this…ever. And now I'm a straight man doing things with a younger lad who is by far straight…."

Alfred had his eyes wide like the full moon.

"BLOODY HELL! DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD?!"

Arthur started fidgeting; his arms shaking with embarrassment, his face totally red with the blush and his body heating up like any heater. The American fortunately kept him in place and avoided any casualties. It would have been a stupid death—falling off a chair and hitting the floor. With the grip on the lean hip tighter than ever, blue eyes gazed into the emerald ones. A sudden hush of seriousness entered the room.

"Ya know, I like Legos. Do you like Legos, Artie?"

Arthur gasped in surprise, "Wh-wha…Yes, but—"

"I like Legos, you like Legos, why don't we build a relationship, hm?"

Arthur Kirkland had never been asked out—in this manner in the very least. Someone rarely is. Arthur just happened to be infatuated or maybe as now it seemed, falling for a young American with a thick head—someone who did not know what serious meant.

"Oh, Alfred, you tease!"

"I ain't teasing, Art! Just answer me, dude! Yes or no?"

He hesitated but, "NO!"

Alfred flashed a playful grin. "You mean yes?"

"I said no!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Alfred threw back his head as he laughed out loud. "Ha-ha! You said yes!"

Arthur threw him weak punches on the chest as he pouted, "You manipulated me, bastard!"

"Come on! Am I that uncool?" he cupped the other's face, "Look at me."

Who was he kidding? The lad was the most handsome guy he'd ever met—who managed to make him so vulnerable as to sit on his lap and hear his never ending pick up lines. He even gave him a chance to revert his answer! But then he would be sating a 'man'! But would that really matter? But he's inexperienced! SO what? Alfred can lead him, right? Arthur was getting mad by the fights he was having with his heart and his mind. He was so pushed over that he made a decision without thinking or feeling.

"Fine! Let's a build a beautiful relationship, love!"

"Now that's what we're talking about!" He gave a breathtaking hug to the older man.

"Um...Al-Alf-red… I-I-I would very much like a relationship with me alive in it…"

He was instantly left and given the widest smile he had ever seen. "Hey, Art, are you camera?"

"I'm a human, thankyouverymuch."

"I think you're a camera, hon. 'Cause every time I look at you, I smile…"

"I think you can stop with the pickup lines, love. We're pretty much together now…"

Alfred just nuzzled his head onto the older man's neck as the other held him close and took in the husky yet alluring smell from the lad's golden hair. They hugged for a moment and then the younger one started pressing pecks all over Arthur's face, except his lips, going down to his neck. Arthur felt a shiver down his spine as hot lips came in contact with his collarbone and with every kiss, his composure was wearing thin.

Suddenly there was a buzzing noise on the table. Distracted, Alfred pulled away and reached for his cell. He was about to reject the call when his expression changed as he looked at who had called him. Quickly placing the other on the chair, he went out to take his call, signalling the writer that it was an important call. Arthur just nodded and let his shudders subside. He could hear the man though.

"Yeah, commie jackass! Jones, here!"

"What? Now?"

"Like seriously at this time?"

"Yeah, yeah whatever!"

"Fine... Just wait for me at the meeting…"

He heard the American let out a heavy sigh. The blond approached him again but was in a hurry. Placing a quick peck on his cheek, Alfred explained, "Something came up at work. Gotta go, babe." Arthur pulled away a bit, still not quite accustomed to the intimate touches.

"Yes, of course. You should get going then." There a tinge of sadness in his voice which the American overlooked.

"I'll call you when I'm done and as for our first official date," Alfred gleamed with happiness, "I want to take you out on a dinner!"

Arthur lit up at the sudden declaration and watched him finally wear his shirt and jacket. "I'll come around at…uh, seven? Seven's good." The writer nodded with sudden spark of enthusiasm in his eyes.

The two stood at the main door for a while, not quite clear to whether kiss goodbye or not. Well, it was Arthur thinking. Alfred was busy rubbing off chocolate sauce from his jeans. With a quick 'bye', the man dashed down the stairs. Closing the door, Arthur sighed at how his sudden change in relationship status was going to affect him.

Before he could take a step forward, a knock followed on the door. Opening, he found his new "boyfriend" heaving and smiling at the same time.

"Hey, babe! There is something wrong with my cell phone… It doesn't have your number in it!"

zZZz

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I may have missed the last Thursday's update. Sorry about that. Internet just died and I had five days torturous camp after that which **did not allow **any gadgets! Hell of a time I had….

Happy New Year, guys! Let's look forward a year of lots and lots good YAOI!

I may have processed the relationship quickly but that had to be done. This chapter has the highest number of pickup lines, btw.. . ;) And the banana one had me falling off my chair the first time I read it… Alfred's part is going to be revealed slowly and I hope you'll be there to see that… They're having their first date! YAY!

Thanks to all those who faved, followed and reviewed the story! May you be blessed with great yaoi fanfics in future!


	6. Chapter 6

**BREAK YOUR LITTLE HEART**

**VI**

* * *

><p>"I went to the editing house…had some stuff to do…"<p>

Alistair made his way to the couch where his brother was seated as he spoke. Laying his head on the Brit's lap, he switched on the television and flipped through the channels slowly.

"Well, I have something to tell you" Arthur smiled gleefully, "I have a date tonight…with Alfred."

"So…you're going out tonight huh," the red head spoke as he gulped down the bottle of beer in his hand.

His brother gave a dreamy sigh, "Mmhmm…."

"That means I'll have the apartment to myself…."

The Brit snapped out of his la-la land filled with Alfred and glared at his half-brother, "That doesn't necessarily mean you can bring women over, Alistair."

"Wha' about fuck buddies? Strippers? Hooker, maybe?"

The blond swiftly slapped the other's head and got up, leaving the Scott's head to land on the couch. "No means no, git!"

"I'll help yaw…you know with the dress and all," he rolled to lie on his stomach and face the blond, "I'll help yaw to pick a gift, make that American happy and all that shit!"

"I'm capable of doing that on my own, idiot!" he scowled in contempt.

There was only thirty minutes before Alfred arrived and Arthur still had no fucking idea to wear to his date or fucking little gift to surprise the younger man. He whined mentally about asking help from his brother due to his insolent terms and conditions but he did not have any other option. Shuffling towards his living room, he found the man glued to the television and drinking the scotch which was meant to be drunk only in special occasion.

"Alistair," he sighed, "Would you _kindly _help your little brother get ready for little date?"

"No."

"You can bring over a woman if you want…"

Alistair raised his brow, "I ain't bringing women today, bro…Remember my friend from Hollad? I'm gonna catch up with Lars tonight like old times…hang out and chill."

"Just help me with this please!" Arthur cried helplessly, "I don't want to disappoint Alfred…especially on the first date!"

Few pleads and cries later, the Scott gave up and switched off the telly before heading to scour the other's whole damn closet to get anything sensible enough to wear for a date. Scratch that. He probably wouldn't get anything that would be sensible enough to actually wear. Arthur sighed a heave of relief as his brother came for his rescue. But before he could even scream in a fit of anger, he watched in horror as his room was turned upside down by the red head.

"Here," he handed the clothes to the blond, "I'll get the gift as yaw change. Gimme money bro…"

Arthur gladly handed his gold credit card to his brother, knowing the other already knew his pin code. The other marched out as he slipped into his attire. He emerged feeling young and gracious in a neat button up, black slacks, dark cardigan and a coat of light shade. Combing his hair slightly, he used the cologne he used for very very special occasion and even found time to brush his teeth and use mouthwash.

The Scott returned in time and handed over a flat cubical wrapped box and his credit card. Narrowing his eyes at the younger Kirkland, his lips twitched in a satisfied smirk, "Ain't I awesome brother, eh?"

"Thank you, Alistair," the blond replied, a thankful smile on his lips.

Both the brothers heard the bell but thought the next 50 rings were absolutely unnecessary. Shaking his head, the Scott went to get the door only to find the young American boldly handing him a bouquet of roses with closed eyes—which was clearly not meant for him.

"See who the receiver is first, will yaw laddie?" He yelled at the younger man.

Alfred received the greatest shock of his life when he was greeted with a yell when he expected a shy comment from someone else. "Al-Alistair! H-hey, dude! Sorry about the..eh…misunderstanding!" He gave a nervous laugh. Alistair was annoyed. The Scott left the door and watched his younger brother head towards the man.

"Um…Alfred," Arthur swallowed hard as he watched the blond dressed elegantly in classy cardigan and black jeans with the everlasting smile on his lips.

Alfred widened his eyes as he handed over the bouquet to the older man , "You're look so damn gorgeous that you made me forget my pickup line."

Arthur laughed as he received the flower. Blushing as if all his blood had accumulated on his cheeks, he left the bouquet with his brother and bit his lower lip as he stepped outside, beside the other. "So…where are we going?" he managed not to stutter but kept eye contact away. "You'll find out," the American chirped and pressed a swift peck on one of the flushed cheek.

"Ugh…you knobjackies! Get out already!" Alistair groaned as he closed the door. Alfred gave him a mock salute and Arthur just smiled in jest.

They had just walked two blocks when they came across a gourmet Italian diner named 'White Flag'. Alfred commented on how un-awesome the name was as Arthur said it was his first time there even though it was so close to his apartment.

"My boss suggested this place! Said his twin grandsons had the best food and place for an awesome date!" the spectacled blond whispered up close which obviously made the other flinch in shock. Alfred suddenly grabbed his hand and held it tight as they entered the diner. Soothing romantic music, soft lighting and the great smell of food enlightened both their senses. Arthur mentally regretted of never entering this place sooner.

A petite man with warm brown hair that had an unusual curl protruding approached them with a small board in his hand.

"Ve~ Hello! Could you please give me your name, sir?" the man uttered in the merriest voice the Brit had ever heard.

"Alfred Jones!"

The man scanned through the paper and suddenly lit when he found the name. "Oh! You're my grandpa's special guest! Come on, come on! He has made a very special arrangement for you!" Alfred flashed a grin at the Brit as he pulled him where the man led them to. "By the way, my name is Feliciano Vargas! I'm Italian just like my grandpa and I'll be serving you two for the night! Ah~ here we are!"

The duo was amazed at the scene before them—it was the diner's open terrace with the orange skies painted as the background and a beautiful small garden surrounding their table. A small fountain was placed nearby with the waters glittering with the drowning sun's rays.

Alfred, as the gentleman he was, pulled the chair for Arthur before he sat in his own seat. Ordering the night's special course of meals and their finest wine, the duo settled, perfectly fit for the perfect arrangement. "Wow…Alfred, I-I…This all is so beautiful."

"Not as you though!" he laughed as the Italian brought over the bottle and poured the rich drink into their tall glass. Arthur was flushed and wanted to say something to thank him but remembered his gift. "Well, I-I just brought a small gift…for you," he took out the wrapped box from his inner coat pocket and handed it to the American.

"Oh, Artie!" he gasped, "Oh my gosh! This is like the first time I've ever got a gift on a date!"

"What?" Arthur sipped the drink to hide his prideful smirk, "The first time?"

"I mean, this is totally cool, man!" he started unwrapping the gift, "It's always been _me _bringing the gifts but this— " He suddenly stopped mid sentence. His mouth went slightly ajar.

"Alfred…?"

Arthur _had not _expected a breathtaking hug from the younger man which when occurred, he couldn't help but stop the man from doing so. The other placed several small pecks on his face, except the lips and had the widest smile he had ever seen. Arthur partly saw the gift box had a collection of the latest videogames of the year and realized how thankful he should be to Alistair. Wiping imaginary tears, Alfred went back to his seat. Not letting go of his grin, he fished out a piece of paper and handed it to the writer.

"It my gift for you," Alfred licked his lips, "Free food coupons!"

Arthur had to be surprised. Now you may have been expecting him to be disappointed shitless but save that stuff 'cause he was happier than a unicorn flying over the rainbow. It was his first time on an actual date and hell, he even got his first gift! His smile couldn't be restrained anymoreand whispered quietly, "Th-thank you, Alfred."

Alfred guessed the man had been disappointed by the gift by the small reply. He therefore quickly fished out a small box room his pocket and handed it in lightning speed. "Alfred, what is this?" The American looked guilty, "I was jus' joking with the coupon thing! This is the real gift! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have made you sad!"

Arthur took he box but replied, "I'm not sad…I was actually happy. I also have never received a gift and this actually…is my first real date."

The other blond breathed out in relief, "Phew~ Thought you're mad at me! Go on, open the box!"

Arthur did as told and found a heart shaped key ring with flag of his nation imprinted on both sides. The small gift made him almost burst into tears but he stopped his tears before they could flow down his cheeks. "Alfred…This…Thank you!"

"You look so cute right now!" Alfred smiled a bit wider and winked at the other older man. The Brit just sat there, drowning in blush.

"Food is here~" The Italian emerged with a tray full of food which Alfred commented was not as good as the hamburgers back in his country but good enough to tingle their taste buds with Italian flavour. Their talks yet again went from one thing to another and Arthur never felt so pleasant in all his life. Their dinner ended well and no matter how much he insisted, Alfred did not allow his date to pay. After the payment, the two lingered at edge of the veranda for a moment, taking in London's cool air. The clouds had not decided to cover up the gleaming diamonds; Arthur couldn't help but talk about it. Alfred joined in of course but let the Brit do most of the talking this time.

"Well, I guess…this is it," a hint of sadness was obvious in his voice.

Jones then took a bold step of clutching the smaller man's waist and pulling him closer. The distance between them disappeared instantly and their chest seemed to be glued together. Arthur blushed furiously and tried to speak but all that came from his throat was incoherent mumbles. Suddenly he felt the soft touch of lips on his own that made his mind go numb. He didn't pull back nor did he fell into the kiss. Feeling the one side-ness in the kiss, Alfred pulled back and watched the Brit colour like anything else.

"Hey, is something wrong, Artie?"

"You kissed me," his voice was filled with amusement, surprise, hint of happiness, tiny bit of anger and what not.

"Can't I?" The American pouted.

Arthur had his eyes wide, "You never kissed me like this! It was on the cheeks, the forehead but not the lips!"

"Well, I wanted to make our first kiss special!"

"But-but-"

"Come on, Hershey's makes millions of kisses a day...all I'm asking for is one from you!" Alfred knew he had caught the Brit with his line.

Swooping the smaller man, he kissed the Brit again and this time the other party obliged, parting his lips to let their tongues do wondrous things together. Arthur moaned as he wrapped his arms the taller man's neck. His heart had raced incredibly fast, almost matching the speed of the Lamborghini. Jones knew his tricks; tilting his head slightly, he gained further access to the other's mouth and there was a blinding fusion of their different taste.

A shiver ran down his spine as their kiss suddenly broke due to the lack of air and he couldn't help but give a small whine about it. The pair of blue eyes flashed brighter as they went in for another kiss yet again, their breaths mingling once again. The Brit moaned as the other's tongue suddenly brushed against his weak spot on his inner gums and Alfred made him miserable enough to actually moan louder and louder every time the tongue accurately brushed the sweet spot.

Their eyes were now craving, lusting over each other and somehow they both knew—they were ready for what was to come next.

zZZz

* * *

><p>"Mmmm…" Arthur moaned as felt strong hands on his arse as he was being kissed by the American. They had tried their best to keep off before they reached his apartment but his shaking hands just didn't go well with the key and the lock. Breaking the sloppy kiss, he jabbed the handle after turning the key and the duo finally entered the apartment.<p>

Arthur barely closed the door when he was shoved at the nearest wall, warm hands roaming all over his body. His coat came off with his cardigan and his shirt was practically ripped off his chest. They met with a wet kiss yet again with the Brit moaning under the American as he felt the hands wander around his naked half. Trying his best, he pulled off the younger man's jacket and pulling off his shirt whilst kissing him eagerly.

Their bare chest came in contact and the writer noticed how lean he was before the young man. The spectacles were taken off and kept aside carefully before he drove the Brit to the wall again. Arthur wrapped his legs around Alfred's waist as their nether regions came in contact. They both groaned and Arthur had his head tipping back at the sudden contact. The American was strong enough to carry him and walk across the room to place him on the wooden table.

Breaking the kiss, their lust hazed eyes gazed each other and the writer could feel his stomach do backflips in the process. Alfred targeted his neck next, nibbling on the sweet spot and making the Brit moan like crazy. "Ahn….Al.." He tried to stop but his body just couldn't help but thrust against the other. Returning the favour, Alfred rubbed their clothed erections yet again and that was enough to make the Brit go wild with pleasure pumping through his veins.

He continued the ministration as his hands settled on the other's arse yet again, this time squeezing them slightly. Arthur was drowning in pleasure, a certain part of his anatomy already so aroused. His hands stretched themselves on the other's wide chest and felt the hard muscles under his touch. Alfred groaned as he licked all the spots he had marked, earning groans from the excited male.

"Artie…"

"Al…mmn…"

Their kisses felt they could never cease but good things barely lasted. A familiar tone came from Alfred's jacket and the American growled in frustration while kissing the smaller man. He tried to ignore his ringtone for the first time in his life and obviously failed at that. Breaking the kiss half-heartedly, the younger blond cupped his cheeks, "So sorry, babe….but…" Arthur nodded reluctantly and he placed a quick peck on the other's cheek.

Cursing loudly, he left the Brit on the table and grabbed his phone. Without looking at the caller id, he screamed his lungs out, "THE FUCK'S WRONG WITH YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER?!" And his eyes zoned out when he recognized the voice on the other side.

"Boss! I'm sorry!"

"No, no! Not at you! It was some shitty brat spilling juice on my clothes!"

"Yes, of course!"

"Positive, sir!"

"Yes, sir, I'll be there shortly…"

Alfred turned towards his date and shook his head in grimace. He went towards the seated male and hugged him with all the warmth he had in him. It was sad leaving his date. It was disastrous leaving his date at such a critical state. He knew even a thousand apologies wouldn't do it. But he turned out wrong.

"Artie, I'm sorry…I-"

"It's alright, Alfred. I understand."

At the moment, the American nearly melted into Arthur's warm forgiveness. The Brit was stroking his hair fondly as they were connected with a hug. Arthur watched Alfred get dressed, give him a goodbye kiss and walking out of the door. Somehow, deep inside, he felt as if he his blooming love for Alfred was silently already starting to wither.

zZZz

* * *

><p>"Yo, awesomeness has entered the building!" A familiar albino walked in and saw the Brit lying on the couch, watching the telly with no mood for it.<p>

"What do you want, Gilbert?" a lazy voice erupted from his throat.

"Beer, dude, beer!"

He walked into the kitchen and brought two bottles for both of them. "What's the matter, eyebrows? Ditched on your first date too?"

Arthur raised his brow as he took the beer, "What do you mean 'too'?"

"Russians are cruel, man. Their bosses…the king of cruelness…" the German stated as he plopped next to the Brit, "We were there at this lovely restaurant and he's like damn rich 'cause I got to taste the finest wine I've ever known…and then I dunno, we were just making out in his cool hybrid after the dinner and his fucking boss called or something…"

"And then he's like so damn cute 'cause he's crying for leaving me like that…he came to pick up your lover boy here and dropped me off…and here I am, the awesome telling how fucking awesomely my night was ruined."

"That actually made me feel better," the blond sipped his beer. He turned the volume of the television as he saw a glimpse of a black bike being chased by a horde of police cars.

_"__The police reported they had chased the biker for almost twenty minutes after he had left the Tower of London but lost him in the chase after that. The Chief also reported that bike was customized for great speed and the biker had left no traces of his presence. It is not finalized about the thief's intention or identity but the higher authorities have pointed it to be the same man who stole the American Heart four days ago. Investigators are trying their best but the __**casualties**__ during the chase had piled up…"_

"Mein Gott—isn't that—"

The duo shot up from their place and looked at each other in horror. "Alistair! Call him right now!" Gilbert tried to calm his shaky breath. Arthur dialled his brother's number and breathed out in relief as the other picked up his call. "I guess ya'll saw the news, eh?" the Scott asked at the other end of line.

"Alistair, damn it! Why didn't you tell us?! Where are you now? Are you hurt?" The Brit yelled at his phone.

"Ey, no need to worry, prick…all's good in the hood. Em smart en'ugh to stay away from those fucks…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: It's two in the morning and I'm typing doodles...eh? <strong>


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